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Sometimes We Mean It
Sometimes we say things that are worth sharing with the outside world. Sometimes we mean it.
Feel free to contact me with any questions or comments: sometimeswemeanit [at] gmail dot com. Or: Here
Also, enjoy my 8tracks.com page: here
GSW 2017: The San Francisco Arena Development Project
Looks super cool. A waterfront arena really would be awesome. Logistically this is probably going to be a nightmare. What happens when the Giants and W’s have a game at the same time? Total clusterfuck. Also, SF isn’t a hoops town and doesn’t have that many basketball fans. How many loyal GSW fans really want to deal with SF’s infrastructural nightmare 41+ nights a year?
Chat with the wife about Kobe.
- K: All I ever hear you or anyone else say about Kobe is that "Kobe is just out there doin' work" or "Kobe is just being Kobe." I still have no idea what Kobe actually does.
- me: Honey, it's hard to explain, mostly Kobe just goes out there and is Kobe and does work.
- K: But what does he actually do?
- me: Work. You'll see.
![fuckyeanba:
Above is a picture of Larry Bird’s childhood home in French Lick, Indiana. Seeing the picture this afternoon, I was reminded of why I grew up idolizing Larry Bird. First, my moms is originally from Indiana. Growing up there were only 2 instances when she saved the day’s paper, ostensibly for recollection at some later point in her life. She is not a person keen on nostalgia, but for some reason she saved the paper the day Jerry Garcia died (she loved the Dead) and the day Larry Bird retired from playing in the NBA. I actually saw her cry that day, and she’s not even that big a basketball fan. Bird just represented everything she loved about her hometown Hoosier state.
My pops was a Celtics guy, which started in the 50’s and 60’s when he grew up idolizing Russell and Auerbach. His Boston bias meant he instilled in me a love for what Bird did with the Celtics. I always loved hearing him talk about Bird with a reverence he normally only reserved for Bill Russell. Bird was the ultimate shit-talker and a competitor who never gave a crap about anything other than winning (sorta like Tim Duncan and Russell).
It reminded me of one of my favorite memories of Bird as a child. This was way before the Internet and YouTube made these memories so easy to recall. My old man recounted the time he saw Larry Bird win the 1988 3-point contest. You may have read his proclamation before the inaugural 1986 NBA 3-Point Shootout in Dallas’ Reunion Arena. He strolled in the locker-room, looked around at his competitors and said “Man, who’s comin’ in second?” He then went out and destroyed everyone to take the competition’s first trophy. That’s a great story and part of Bird’s mythical status in Boston and around the country, but it’s not the anecdote my pops relayed to me when I was a youngster.
Bird would go on to win the first 2 three-point titles, but in 1988, his back was against the wall against new-comer Dale Ellis in Chicago. In the final round he was struggling and came to the final rack of balls down 1 point. He missed the first 3 balls, then hit the second to last ball to tie. It came down to the final shot with those old, multi-colored ABA balls that count for 2-points in the competition.
This is what my father told me before the Internet and YouTube. He said as he watched, Bird lofted the final shot and before it was even close to the rim, he raised his finger and walked away—already sure it was going in. It did, and he was the 3-time champion.
The audacity to just walk away because he was so sure it was going in, was the lesson the story taught me. My old man was right.
There’s no manual for that type of confidence. It’s not something a coach can teach you, or you can pick up on the schoolyard. You don’t learn confidence; you just have it.
Bird has confidence to an unnaturally high degree. That’s why I’ll always love Larry Bird. That’s why my moms saved the paper the day he retired. That’s why my old man continued to love the Celtics even after Russell and Hondo had all left the team.
Larry motherfuckin’ Bird.
[Pic Via @SI_Vault]](http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m46g3dY0Tf1qbcs46o1_1280.jpg)
Above is a picture of Larry Bird’s childhood home in French Lick, Indiana. Seeing the picture this afternoon, I was reminded of why I grew up idolizing Larry Bird. First, my moms is originally from Indiana. Growing up there were only 2 instances when she saved the day’s paper, ostensibly for recollection at some later point in her life. She is not a person keen on nostalgia, but for some reason she saved the paper the day Jerry Garcia died (she loved the Dead) and the day Larry Bird retired from playing in the NBA. I actually saw her cry that day, and she’s not even that big a basketball fan. Bird just represented everything she loved about her hometown Hoosier state.
My pops was a Celtics guy, which started in the 50’s and 60’s when he grew up idolizing Russell and Auerbach. His Boston bias meant he instilled in me a love for what Bird did with the Celtics. I always loved hearing him talk about Bird with a reverence he normally only reserved for Bill Russell. Bird was the ultimate shit-talker and a competitor who never gave a crap about anything other than winning (sorta like Tim Duncan and Russell).
It reminded me of one of my favorite memories of Bird as a child. This was way before the Internet and YouTube made these memories so easy to recall. My old man recounted the time he saw Larry Bird win the 1988 3-point contest. You may have read his proclamation before the inaugural 1986 NBA 3-Point Shootout in Dallas’ Reunion Arena. He strolled in the locker-room, looked around at his competitors and said “Man, who’s comin’ in second?” He then went out and destroyed everyone to take the competition’s first trophy. That’s a great story and part of Bird’s mythical status in Boston and around the country, but it’s not the anecdote my pops relayed to me when I was a youngster.
Bird would go on to win the first 2 three-point titles, but in 1988, his back was against the wall against new-comer Dale Ellis in Chicago. In the final round he was struggling and came to the final rack of balls down 1 point. He missed the first 3 balls, then hit the second to last ball to tie. It came down to the final shot with those old, multi-colored ABA balls that count for 2-points in the competition.
This is what my father told me before the Internet and YouTube. He said as he watched, Bird lofted the final shot and before it was even close to the rim, he raised his finger and walked away—already sure it was going in. It did, and he was the 3-time champion.
The audacity to just walk away because he was so sure it was going in, was the lesson the story taught me. My old man was right.
There’s no manual for that type of confidence. It’s not something a coach can teach you, or you can pick up on the schoolyard. You don’t learn confidence; you just have it.
Bird has confidence to an unnaturally high degree. That’s why I’ll always love Larry Bird. That’s why my moms saved the paper the day he retired. That’s why my old man continued to love the Celtics even after Russell and Hondo had all left the team.
Larry motherfuckin’ Bird.
[Pic Via @SI_Vault]
Today is the 10 year anniversary of Allen Iverson’s now infamous “practice” interview.
(via jeskeets)
Despite the injuries, players not yet in tune with their teammates, the schedule and the New York media trying to figure out the Knicks, the NBA’s first full month in January was pretty incredible.
Rudy Fernandez throws over-the-head, no-look alley-oop to Kenneth Faried.
pirate apprentice: Ponder: Crack Rock/Wicked Jump Shot
Hip hop and basketball have gone hand-in-hand ever since Kurtis Blow greased up his ‘fro and wrote a song dedicated to the sport back in ’84. There has been a litany of b-ballers that have tried their hand at the rap game (Iverson, Ron Artest and Chris Webber to name a few) and a handful of…
The Nets and NBA Economics By Malcolm Gladwell
One of the great forgotten facts about the United States is that not very long ago the wealthy weren’t all that wealthy. Up until the 1960s, the gap between rich and poor in the United States was relatively narrow. In fact, in that era marginal tax rates in the highest income bracket were in excess of 90 percent. For every dollar you made above $250,000, you gave the government 90 cents. Today — with good reason — we regard tax rates that high as punitive and economically self-defeating. It is worth noting, though, that in the social and political commentary of the 1950s and 1960s there is scant evidence of wealthy people complaining about their situation.
Leon Powe’s Journey to the NBA
(done with a Chris Farley impression)
Remember when Paul Pierce got carried off the court and carted by wheelchair into the locker room vs L.A. in Game 1 of the 2008 NBA Finals and everyone though the C’s were finished before they even got a chance, only he came out a few minutes later hit a couple of clutch 3-pointers & scored 22 points in the Boston victory and then played so well the rest of the series vs. Kobe, including the biggest—or most embarrassing if you’re a Lakers fan—NBA Finals comeback since ‘71 in Game 4 & the dominating—or humiliating if you’re a Lakers fan—131-92 Game 6 clincher, that he was named Finals MVP & Boston won it’s record 17th NBA championship?
Yeah, that was awesome
